Formula 3 was a different beast entirely.
The cars were faster, more powerful, with significant aerodynamic downforce that made them feel like proper racing machines. The competition was fiercer—drivers aged fifteen to nineteen, all fighting for F1 opportunities, all willing to take risks that F4 drivers wouldn't.
I joined Prema Racing again at age fourteen, the team having faith in my F4 development. My teammate was a seventeen-year-old Italian named Raffaele Marciello, already in his second F3 season and very fast.
"You're young for F3," Raffaele said during our first team meeting. "Most drivers are sixteen, seventeen when they start here. You sure you're ready?"
"Only one way to find out."
"True. But F3 is aggressive. Drivers desperate to move up. Everyone wants F1 seat. They'll push you hard, force you into mistakes."
He wasn't trying to intimidate me—just being honest about what to expect. I appreciated that.
[Teammate: Raffaele Marciello]
[Age 17, experienced, fast, protective attitude]
[Will be valuable mentor figure]
The F3 European Championship grid was stacked with talent that made F4 look like amateur hour. George Russell had moved up from F4 and was already setting impressive times in testing. A French-Swiss driver named Louis Delétraz was the pre-season championship favorite. A Danish driver named Mikkel Jensen showed brilliant pace in pre-season.
And notably, Lando Norris had also jumped to F3 despite being only fourteen—skipping the second F4 season I'd stayed for. When I saw him in the paddock at the first test, his cheeky grin was immediate.
"Stroll! Didn't expect to see you here. Thought you'd take the safe route with another F4 year."
"Could say the same about you. We're the only fourteen-year-olds stupid enough to try F3."
"Not stupid. Ambitious." He looked at the cars being prepped in the Prema garage. "These look fast."
"They are fast. Scary fast."
"Good. I was getting bored of F4 speeds."
[Lando Norris: Immediate connection]
[Both youngest on grid, both ambitious]
[Natural friendship forming]
My first F3 test session was an education in humility. The cars generated serious downforce through fast corners, but they also had weight and momentum that required different techniques than karts or F4 cars.
First test lap time: 1:38.4
Raffaele's time: 1:36.8
Louis Delétraz's time: 1:36.2
Gap to fastest: 2.2 seconds
[Learning curve: Steep]
[But you've been here before]
[Your skills will adapt, just give them time]
Thomas, my engineer who'd moved up from F4 with me, reviewed the data with patience. "Your driving style is still smooth, which is good. But you're being too cautious. The downforce means you can carry more speed through fast corners than you think."
"It feels like the car will let go."
"It won't. Not at the speeds you're currently taking them. Trust the aero. The car will stick."
That afternoon session, I pushed harder through the high-speed sections. The first time I carried serious speed through a fast corner, feeling the downforce press the car into the track, was revelatory. The car didn't slide—it gripped harder the faster I went.
By the end of the day: 1:37.2
[Improvement: 1.2 seconds in one day]
[Still 1.0 seconds off Raffaele, but closing]
That evening, the Prema team had a dinner at the hotel. All the drivers, engineers, and team management sat together—about twenty people total. The food was decent, standard hotel catering, but I found myself critiquing it mentally.
The chicken was overcooked. The sauce had broken from being held too long. The vegetables were blanched properly but underseasoned.
Raffaele noticed me studying my plate. "Something wrong with the food?"
"It's fine. Just... could be better."
"You a food critic now in addition to racing driver?"
"I cook sometimes. Kind of a hobby."
"A hobby?" Raffaele laughed. "Most fourteen-year-olds' cooking hobby is making instant ramen without burning the kitchen down."
"I've had good teachers. My family takes food seriously."
The Prema team principal, René Rosin, overheard. "You cook, Lance? Actually cook or just heat things up?"
"Actually cook. French cuisine mostly, some Italian."
"Italian?" René's eyebrows rose. "Bold claim in front of Italians. What can you make?"
"Risotto, fresh pasta, proper carbonara, osso buco, tiramisu." I shrugged. "The basics."
The Italian engineers and mechanics started laughing. One of them, Marco, called out, "Those are not basics! Those are classics! And carbonara—everyone makes it wrong. You know the real way?"
"Guanciale, eggs, pecorino, black pepper. No cream, no garlic, no onions. Let the pasta water create the sauce."
The laughter stopped. Marco stared at me. "You... you actually know how to make it. Not the American way. The Roman way."
"There's only one way to make carbonara properly. Everything else is pasta with cream sauce."
[Cooking knowledge: Revealed casually]
[Italian team members: Impressed and suspicious]
[This could become a thing]
René leaned forward, intrigued. "Lance, where did you learn to cook like this?"
"I started helping my mom when I was young. Then trained with a professional chef in Montreal for a few years. Chef Beaumont. He runs a Michelin-starred restaurant."
"Michelin-starred?" Raffaele looked skeptical. "At what age were you training with a Michelin chef?"
"Started when I was eight."
"Eight years old. Training with a Michelin chef. While also becoming a karting champion." Raffaele shook his head. "You're either very talented or very strange."
"Can't it be both?"
The team laughed, and the conversation moved on. But I noticed Marco, the Italian mechanic, watching me with new interest.
[Note: Cooking skills creating unexpected connections]
[This will be useful for team bonding]
[Also maintaining this skill for future streaming content]
The pre-season continued with three more test sessions across different tracks. Each session brought improvement as my skills adapted to the F3 cars. Perfect Instinct was learning the new braking points, the different weight transfer, the aerodynamic behavior. Racecraft Genius was showing me optimal lines that exploited the cars' downforce characteristics.
By the final pre-season test at Monza, I'd gotten much closer to competitive pace.
My time: 1:36.9
Raffaele: 1:36.7
Louis Delétraz: 1:36.4
Gap to fastest: 0.5 seconds
[Massive improvement from first test]
[Now within striking distance]
"This is good progress," Thomas said, reviewing the data. "You're consistent, your racecraft is strong, and you're only half a second off the championship favorite. Most rookies are still two seconds off by season start."
"But I'm still slower than Raffaele."
"By two-tenths. That's nothing. That's one corner optimized, one braking point perfected. You'll find that during the season."
[Pre-season assessment: Competitive but not favorite]
[Realistic goals: Top 10 in championship, learning year]
[Your secret goal: Podiums and maybe a win if everything aligns]
The week before the first race, I spent time at home in Canada. Chloe was excited about F3 starting, already preparing new pages in her racing scrapbook.
"Formula 3," she said, organizing photos and race schedules. "This is where it gets real. This is where F1 teams start watching."
"Pressure's on, then."
"You've handled pressure before. This is just more of it." She looked up from her scrapbook. "Mom's worried though. Says F3 is dangerous. Cars are fast, drivers are aggressive."
"It's controlled danger. Safety equipment is good, tracks are designed properly."
"Tell her that, not me. I know you'll be fine." She paused. "What's it like? Being fourteen and racing against eighteen, nineteen-year-olds?"
"Intimidating. They're bigger, stronger, more experienced. But the car doesn't care how old you are. It responds to inputs, not age."
"That's a good answer. I'm stealing that for my documentary notes."
"Documentary?"
"I'm thinking long-term. When you're in F1, people will want to know the whole story. I'm documenting it properly so it's accurate." She grinned. "I'll be famous as the sister who recorded everything."
[Chloe: Taking documentation seriously]
[Family dynamics: Supportive but concerned]
[Pressure acknowledged but manageable]
I spent an afternoon with Chef Beaumont, who'd been following my racing career with interest.
"Formula 3," he said as we worked on preparing duck confit together. "The serious racing begins. Are you nervous?"
"Excited more than nervous. It's what I've been working toward."
"Good. Nerves are useful but excitement is powerful." He showed me how to trim the duck properly. "Remember, racing and cooking are similar—precision, timing, consistency. The fundamentals apply to both."
"I haven't cooked much during the season. Too busy with racing."
"That's fine. But don't abandon it completely. Cooking is meditation, creativity, art. When racing becomes stressful, come back to the kitchen. It centers you."
We prepared a full meal together—duck confit with perfect crispy skin, potato fondant, seasonal vegetables prepared three different ways, a classic French tart for dessert. The familiar rhythms of the kitchen were calming, therapeutic.
"You're getting better," Chef Beaumont observed. "Your knife work is professional-level now. Your sauce work is excellent. You could work in a serious kitchen if racing doesn't work out."
"Racing will work out."
"I believe you. But it's good to have other skills, other passions. They make you more complete as a person."
[Cooking: Maintained as important skill]
[Therapeutic value acknowledged]
[Professional level achieved]
The season opener was at Silverstone, England. The British track was technical, requiring precision and bravery through high-speed corners. Perfect for showcasing F3's capabilities.
I qualified twelfth—respectable for a rookie, frustrating for someone who wanted to compete at the front immediately. Louis Delétraz took pole position with an incredible lap. George Russell qualified second, showing his pace transfer from F4. Lando was sixth, impressive for another fourteen-year-old.
Raffaele qualified ninth. Being faster than him in qualifying felt like a small victory.
"Good qualifying," Raffaele said, genuinely pleased. "You out-qualified me. That's not easy."
"You probably made a mistake somewhere."
"No, I drove my best lap. You were just faster today. Accept the compliment."
[Qualifying: P12]
[Teammate battle: Won this round]
[Lando: P6 (faster than me, competitive fire ignited)]
Race day brought typical English weather—cloudy, cool, threat of rain that never quite materialized. The grid formed, tension palpable. This was it. First F3 race. Real career beginning.
The lights went out. Perfect start from me, gained two positions through turn one. The cars ahead bunched up at turn three, some contact, someone spun. I navigated through carefully, emerged from the chaos in ninth place.
[Lap 1: P9, gained three positions]
[Clean racing, no damage]
[This is manageable]
The race pace was intense. F3 drivers left less space than F4 drivers, defended harder, attacked more aggressively. I was racing wheel-to-wheel constantly, every position a battle.
Lap eight, I passed the driver ahead for eighth place—a German driver who defended hard but I got past using superior exit speed from one corner. Lap twelve, I lost a position to a French driver who dive-bombed into a corner I wasn't expecting an attack.
Back to ninth. Frustrating but educational.
The final laps were about managing tires and holding position. The driver behind was faster but I defended smartly, used my Racecraft Genius to position perfectly, gave him no opportunities.
Crossed the line in ninth place.
[Race 1: P9]
[Points Scored: 2 (F3 points: 25-18-15-12-10-8-6-4-2-1)]
[Current Balance: 22 points]
Not spectacular. Not disappointing. Just... okay.
Louis won, demonstrating his championship credentials. George finished second, continuing his impressive form. Lando was seventh, beating me by two positions.
"Solid debut," Thomas said. "Scored points, finished clean, learned F3 racing. Now we build from here."
But I was already analyzing what went wrong, where I lost time, how to improve. Ninth place wasn't good enough. Not when Lando had finished seventh.
[Self-assessment: Room for improvement]
[Competitive fire: Burning]
[Next race: Must be better]
To be continued...